You’re no good for me, but I guess not bad enough. And on quiet nights I come to find you crawling through my kick drum Hell bent on deliverance of all the privileges of being with you, Heaven sent I crane my neck To watch you desperately march down my chest, enjoying every step. Emphasized by distances we never intended. You come crawling back through my regrets to remind me what you said… "We’re no good at this."
So it’s on into the lonely nights and all the rest of it. The empty space between me and the sunken walls and feeling someone’s hand around my neck choking away the life that I have left. I miss the warmth of the summer when we were on our own, but now it’s winter and my bones are cold.